


Solo Flight

by MissViolet



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissViolet/pseuds/MissViolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lonely without their Companions, the TARDIS soothes the Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solo Flight

The Doctor's on his knees, repairing the chassis that holds his ship's heart in place, when she lurches and throws him down to the floor. His sonic screwdriver clatters away and he sprawls flat. He sits up unsteadily, tries to rise to his feet but is hit by a wave of dizziness. Clutching the walls of the TARDIS, he pulls himself upright and staggers down the hallway to a little-used room whose door resembles a broom-closet.

Inside, it's dark and hush; the Doctor only comes here when he needs quiet. There's a modest four-poster bed, a maroon quilted coverlet, a plain wooden dresser and wardrobe. The Doctor collapses to the bed, his head spinning. The bed-frame is humble, but the mattress is lush - a soft pile of feathers and down. The Doctor sinks into it, feeling his senses re-aligning. It's the heart of TARDIS, steadying him, comforting him so that his mind is better suited to power the ship.

He unlaces his trainers and leans his head onto a feather pillow, slipping off his shoes, which he drops to the floor. The Doctor very rarely sleeps, but when he feels the urge, he yields to it. This time, it doesn't feel like sleep approaching. It's something else; he feels the humming of the TARDIS, the psychic connection in his brain; suddenly it's in his body, too.

_Love you_, the TARDIS speaks in his mind, sending a gentle breeze throughout his quarters. It stars near the ceiling, ripples throughout the room and finally sinks down into the Doctor's body, making him shiver.

_You're so lovable_, says the TARDIS. Her affection for the Doctor wreathes around him like a warm blanket of air. It sinks deep, sending a shock of warmth from deep in his loins, bursting outward into his midsection, stealing his breath,

"Oh," he says helplessly, because he knows this feeling. It's happened before, especially when he's been without a Companion for too long. It doesn't happen often, and it's always a surprise. He shudders as a wave of intense pleasure washes over him.

_Lovely_, sighs the ship. Suddenly the room is hot; the Doctor tears at his clothing until he lies naked upon the quilted coverlet, his lithe form covered with a fine sheet of sweat.

"What's next, darling?" he whispers, because he can't quite recollect.

There is a soft and barely perceptible _whoosh_, and the heat of the room becomes moist and tropical. The air is lightly perfumed with something like jasmine. The Doctor is aware of his physicality, sharp and heavy, in a way that doesn't usually affect him. The feeling is intense, not pain, as he had thought, but pleasure. The rush is unbelievable. He trails his fingers up his ribcage with a shiver of delight. He pinches his nipples, hard, making himself gasp. His cock hardens and he slips his hand down between his thighs. It's heavy and full in his hand, and he shudders as he squeezes it. He strokes himself tightly, feeling an answering throb in the bowels of the ship. It's a lowly-registering hum, something he feels in the pit of his stomach, this pleasure that resonates between himself and his ship.

"Are you doing this to me?" he asks softly, but even as he does so, his hand starts to move in rhythm, stroking tightly, up and down, until his hearts are racing, his breathing fast and shallow. He's pleasuring himself, which is not typical behavior for a Time Lord. A momentary shock of surprise makes him give pause, holding his stiff prick in his hand uncertainly, until he feels the warm throb of the TARDIS responding to his actions. For some reason he thinks of Rose, her full pink lips, the lushness of her hips. He remembers how she looked at him, and wishes she were with him now. The ship pulses in response, and he feels it in his body, and in his mind, the tightening of his muscles, his shortened breath and damp brow. His hips jerk as he strokes himself, biting his lower lip as the sensation grows more intense.

"Oh, it's lovely. Oh, yes..." he whispers, and arches into his own hand, stroking his cock and thrusting his hips to increase the sensation. He's caught Jack at this, late at night, when he couldn't resist peeking after hearing Jack's moans from the corridors of the TARDIS. The memory flashes through his mind: Jack, nude and stroking his impressively large cock, panting and unaware of the Doctor's gaze. How beautiful Jack was as he finished himself, lips parting on a sigh as his cock twitched and spent under his steady strokes. The TARDIS remembers Jack, too, and her fondness for him sends a jolt of electricity through the Doctor's lower body. He wishes Jack were here now, watching him do this to himself, and he groans at the naughtiness of his fantasy. The TARDIS likes the Doctor's luscious memory of their handsome companion, all the more sweet because it is so rarely retrieved. The thrumming of the ship grows more insistent.

"Mmmm," the Doctor moans softly, loving the throb and pulse of his cock that mirrors the humming of the ship. He feels it in his temples, in the back of his calves, the low purr of the engines, the dense heat of the room, the salty taste of the drops of sweat that pool on his lips. He parts them, taking deep breaths as the pleasures courses ever more quickly through his slim frame.

The Doctor's skin, normally so cool, is warm and damp. He grips the light cotton quilt in his left hand, pulls it off his body. In his right hand, his cock is stiff and hot. He jerks himself lazily, wanting to make it last, but the TARDIS sweeps him along at her own pace, engines throbbing ever more insistently, and his own pulse quickening in the carotid arteries on either side of his neck, and in the low thrumming in his belly.

There is a slight stagger in the ship, which makes his hips jerk and roll forward, forcing his rock-hard cock into his fist, and the feeling is so sharp and immediately intense that he does it again and again, bucking his hips eagerly. His muscles tighten and start to ache, and his body stiffens until he's sure he'll break. He moans freely now, relishing the pure physical sensation that washes over him, crying out as he touches himself, as his long strokes become short and fast, and his heartbeats so rapid that he pants for breath.

"I'm close," he whispers, and he feels the vibratory answer of the ship low in his groin, and the hard hot arrow between his thighs aches tight and sweet. His body stiffens, and with a short sob he starts to come. It's slow and agonizing, and his muscles shudder and tense as he arches into it and moans with release.

"Ah, darling," he sighs, stroking himself ever more slowly, enjoying the soft lingering feeling of his subsiding pleasure and the slick wetness between his legs. Idly he considers returning to his work at the console. He slides one leg down the side of the bed, nearly touching the floor, but the throb of his ship's engines pushes the idea of work beyond the realm of his thoughts. The Doctor pulls the cotton quilt over himself and slips into a deep sleep, enjoying the calm drift of his mind, the gentleness of the TARDIS as she sends a perfumed breeze through his quarters.


End file.
